


Accidents and Meet-Cutes

by Goodneighbor_Neighbor (Fan_by_Proxy)



Series: Commonwealth Kinks [2019 Prompt List] [19]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Discussions of the past without rose-colored glasses, F/M, McArthyist anxieties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:08:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24261112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fan_by_Proxy/pseuds/Goodneighbor_Neighbor
Summary: Hancock and Sole make up after an awkward, adrenaline-fueled moment, and Hancock gets a bigger piece of her history than he expected.
Relationships: John Hancock & Female Sole Survivor, John Hancock/Female Sole Survivor
Series: Commonwealth Kinks [2019 Prompt List] [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727050
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Accidents and Meet-Cutes

“ _Jean, tu es sérieux?”_ Yvette hissed. In all the times they had huddled together, or been thrown into a tight space and made to stay for a little while, his _petite-Jean_ hadn’t made one little twitch. She had appreciated that fact, being as far from ‘in a mood’ as a woman could be in the face of the enormity of her new reality. So why _now_ , as they had thrown themselves into a tipped armoire to avoid a surprise Super-Mutant patrol (who knew such great big murderous things knew how to walk so quietly?!), did that have to change?

“Look, it _isn’t exactly in my control_ \--” Hancock hissed back, but a heavy footfall outside the door cut off the rest of his defense. He certainly couldn’t think of a less sexy moment than trying to avoid a skirmish where they were outgunned _and_ outnumbered; one or the other was manageable but both? That was why they’d thrown themselves into the busted armoire to begin with! But between the clothes and the angle, he’d wound up with her fine, firm ass practically molded to his thighs and adrenaline was causing some uncomfortable misfires.

Yvette couldn’t even go for a gun--for the potentially curious Super-Mutant--for holding the doors closed as tightly as she could. Hancock’s arms were around her waist and they were slotted together oddly well, given the circumstances. She tensed her thighs, trying to ignore the discomfort and the aggravation as the armoire shook from a heavy knock. Hancock’s hand was over her mouth in an instant and his teeth on her shoulder firmly as the armoire shook again.

Hancock’s hand was over her mouth before he really thought about how much worse it’d make the situation--he’d just wanted to smother any surprised noise that the shaking might knock out of her. She didn’t panic easy, he knew that, but even he’d started to gasp before muffling himself on her shoulder. It was just reflex, Hancock reminded himself, and there wasn’t anything getting started that wouldn’t die just as fast as soon as the jolly green asshole _left them the hell alone_!

Her fingers were starting to tingle, threatening to go numb as Yvette fought to hold the armoire shut as it rattled and jostled them. Even catching the edge of a hanger in the corner of her eye didn’t exactly dissuade the inappropriate and poorly-timed rush she was feeling. It reminded her of the time she’d hidden in a proper coat closet with her husband to have a _private_ New Year’s Eve kiss.

Just how _goddamn_ strong was she, Hancock thought grimly as he felt another flex that just pushed his buttons a little more. In a totally different circumstance, it might be fun to try a little clothes-on play--like one where they were _actually_ fooling around instead of just in the occasional inappropriate dream. Maybe he could get a hand on a gun, but that meant either letting go of her waist or her mouth and the goddamn armoire was _still_ shaking.

Then it stopped, and they heard a discontented rumble. Yvette had no idea what ‘green stuff’ was, but she was thankful the Super-Mutant hadn’t decided to just smash the armoire open. Now if he could just _walk away_ and never come back, she could breathe again!

It sounded like the patrol was finally making their way out. Hancock very cautiously raised his head, to get his teeth off her shoulder at least. There wasn’t much room for him to take his hand off her mouth without getting an accidental graze of her chest, so he settled for loosening his grip. When she let the door open, it’d be easier and hopefully he could get ahead of any outburst.

Yvette waited until it was so quiet her ears rang before letting go of the doors. They swung out, and the relief was so intense and palpable…it sent her over the edge. She grabbed Hancock’s arm around her waist to push it away and wound up digging her nails in before it was over.

Hancock felt a tremendous flex, felt her fingers digging into his sleeve, and couldn’t force out a sound. He managed to get his hand off her mouth without coping a feel. Yvette peeled away from him, leaving the armoire on wobbling legs and doubling over with her hands on her knees once she far enough away. Hancock exited much more slowly, pulling at his lapels to get a little saving drape going. “ _Well_ …” he said.

“Do not say _one word_.” Yvette warned, straightening and cracking her back. Adrenaline was still racing, making her feel like a hard-strummed bowstring.

He should take the warning, Hancock thought, but his mouth was about six miles ahead of his brain. “You want a minute to take care of things, beautiful?”

Was it a proposition? Or was it Hancock making a badly-timed joke, the way he often did? “ _Jean_ , if you are saying something rude, I am going to take my gun out and shoot you someplace that will not _kill_ you, but it will hurt _very badly_.” Yvette snapped.

Hancock flinched back from the glare; but even it didn’t do shit about the tension in his pants.

She took a deep breath, tossed her head, and took two steps to get him by the lapel and pull him down to whisper in his hear. “ _And_ I do not need a moment, because I already had mine.” Yvette hissed before pushing him back and turning away.

 _So_ that was what he’d felt--been holding onto--been _held_ onto for. Hancock couldn’t feel his tongue. He watched her walk away, heard her go through the door and the echo of her real pretty swears he couldn’t understand as she down the hall; it was a different kind of way to announce the coast was clear. Hancock counted to ten and lit a cigarette; he wasn’t some dumb-ass kid, about to drop his pants just anywhere in the Commonwealth for a quick palmer. After a couple of puffs, he could walk fast enough to catch up to Yvette.

At least he wasn’t _shot_ , but he was definitely in a lot of trouble. After a while, Hancock quit trying to apologize. He wasn’t even really sure what he was apologizing for, and she just kept telling him all the variations of ‘shut up’ that she knew. It was going to be a _long_ walk back to Goodneighbor if this kept up, but he couldn’t see just walking off; not even for the practical reason of it being dangerous to walk the Commonwealth all on your own…he just didn’t want to leave things this kind of weird. She could think he was an asshole-because he definitely was--but Hancock would rather it be for a better fuck-up than too-close-contact he hadn’t even meant to make.

It wasn’t until they had settled down with a small caravan to share space and a fire for the night, that Yvette finally felt calm and had her thoughts organized _and_ translated well enough to start trying to clear the air. “ _Jean_?”

Hancock raised an eyebrow, hoping against a dressing-down while there were half a dozen people hanging nearby. “Yeah, beautiful?”

“I am sorry.” Yvette said quietly.

“I…was not expecting that.” he said, setting aside the can of Cram he’d been chipping away at. “I mean I’m not sorry--well I _am_ \--but look, it wasn’t--” Hancock floundering; during the day he’d managed to come up with a pretty coherent statement about the whole thing. But something about the dim light and the fire catching her eyes and the fact she apologized threw him.

“No, no, it was…” Yvette took a deep breath. “You are not the only man friend I have had, but you are…very quickly becoming one of the few that I spend this much time with, understand?”

He didn’t but he nodded anyway, to feed his curiosity by letting her continue.

Yvette smiled, relieved. That was precisely _why_ he was such a good friend; she didn’t have to explain everything down to the tiniest word for him to catch on. “I have had man friends that I thought were becoming close with me because of the value of our friendship, when the truth was it was only a ploy to take me to bed. I…I like you, and I did not deal well at all with the idea that you might disappoint me so very deeply.”

Hancock frowned, a little touched and still pretty confused. “So…you’re not mad about the uh…I mean you-know,” he said, picking up the can again, “you were getting mad in advance of me trying to try something?”

“Sort of.” She replied. “It does not make sense to you after all, does it?”

“I’m trying to keep up, beautiful, I promise.” Hancock poked his fork around to break up the meat and fat into something a little more palatable to chew on. “You uh…you really put a lot of value in friendship, huh?” He figured that was the safest way to begin.

Yvette nodded. “You do not?”

“I do, I do…I guess I just don’t think too hard about it. Pal of mine does me a favor, I do him a solid back, we go back and forth like that unless something happens that throws the whole thing off, you know?” Hancock managed a bite, chewing slow to see if he could make it make better sense for her. No wonder she’d been quiet until about sunset. “I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t definitely fool around with you if you invited me to, but you’d have to _invite me_.” Hancock said. “Some guys, they might like pushing the issue; but I like feeling _wanted_ , ya know? It goes better.” he felt like an idiot putting it that way, for admitting that little bit of shyness. Had he always been like that? Hancock couldn’t honestly say; a lot of the old days (the _smooth days_ ) were pretty much buried under chems and better thoughts. But he knew how he was _now_ , and that was the thing in question.

“It does.” Yvette replied, cracking a can of water to wash down her own tinned meal.

“That uh…that happen a lot to you? I mean back, ya know?” Hancock asked, hating the tell of insecurity that came with every ‘ya know’ but curious _to know_. The more they went around together, the more she shared--sometimes even without tears at this point--and it was fascinating. Maybe she had her sugarcoating moments, but there was bad--or at least frustrating--in with the good stories; unlike Kent and his rose-colored everything.

Yvette nodded, closing the can. “There were all sorts of silly ideas about girls that stupid boys wrote on bathroom walls and took to their hearts as truths.” she rolled her eyes. “Like…‘if she smokes, she pokes’.”

Hancock snorted. “Heard that one.”

“Which I suppose could _technically_ be true, considering how many woman did smoke and do smoke and who do enjoy sex, but it is still not a sound assumption to make.” Yvette continued as she shook her head. “Or there was the assumption that because I am foreign-born, I am exotic and exotic girls will do _anything_ to please an American. _Any-thing_.” she emphasized. “Then there was silliness like the assumption a woman may only be going to school to find a husband--or depending on the program, a wife…ahm…oh, if she had any kind of artistic spirit she must of course be easy, or that her taste for women was merely to catch your man’s attention and provide you entertainment.” Yvette sneered. “I would spit but I do not want to waste the water.”

Hancock loosed a low whistle. “That’s a _lot_ of baggage.”

“Tell me about it. So take me, I am living in the arts district as a student; I am not shy in who I pursue for romance, I am friends with similar people, I _smoke_.” She snorted. “Perhaps some of these things I did, I could have not and made my life easier, but…” she shrugged.

He couldn’t help the level of sarcasm in the short laugh that came out. “So your choices are to try and do a little living, or be a boring fuck and eventually die from the boredom?”

“Sometimes, it did feel that way, yes.” Yvette replied, offering him the can.

Hancock took it, swishing a mouthful around to try and take the feeling of grease off his tongue before swallowing. “Sorry--Cram, ya know.” he said before continuing. “So…can I ask you something? I promise it’s not me just trying to get some juicier details out of your private life.” Hancock cautioned.

“You can, as long as I am free not to answer if I do not want to.” Yvette replied.

“Hey, we may not be in Goodneighbor but you and me still got that spirit.” Hancock said with a wink. “Free as can be.” he added to clarify.

She shook her head, chuckling. “Ok, ok, ask your question.”

Hancock licked his lips and steeled himself, hoping against hope that what he was about to ask wasn’t going to cut her deep. “So you’re a…this smoking, book-learning, free-loving kind of gal right?” He began. “How’d you get hooked up with an Army boy? I mean…tell me I’m wrong but that sounds pretty much as opposite as you can get.”

Yvette cocked her head, looking at Hancock over the fire, debating whether or not to answer. To think of _Martin_ , their life together, it hurt _so very much_. But holding it in, treating it like a secret…that felt almost like pretending it never happened, which was a worse sin. She took a deep breath.

“Hey, _hey_ forget I asked. I’m an asshole, right? Just…I’ll shut up, as long as we’re cool.” Hancock babbled, watching her shoulders slump and her gaze drop to the fire.

“We are cool _, Jean_. And…you are not as big the asshole as you say you are.” Yvette replied. “I just…am trying to decide if it would hurt more to say, or not to say.”

He nodded. “Hey, like I said, forget it. We can talk about anything else. Or I can shut up…I can _try_ to shut up.” Hancock amended, to try and get her to smile. Fortunately she did, just a little.

“The first time we met, I was not impressed.” Yvette began. “The party of a friend-of a friend-of a friend that was very dull, with more of the clean-cut boys from the recruiting office than booze.”

“Woof.” Hancock shook his head. “Sounds like _loads_ of fun.”

Yvette snorted. “Oh _so_ much fun. Big loud boys who are very proud of themselves and drink cheap beer and put their arm around you and say things like ‘oh I am shipping out tomorrow, but I have fallen in love with you, won’t you kiss me so I can die happy’.” she rolled her eyes.

Hancock laughed, earnestly and from his belly, at that. “ _Seriously_?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “That, on top of ‘oh how beautiful you sound, won’t you whisper in my ear what you want me to make for your breakfast tomorrow morning’. I have never been so tempted to climb out of a fifth-floor window to risk death.” Yvette snorted. “A good-looking man is _nothing_ if he is also a total fool.”

“Starting to think I made a better impression on you, stabbing Finn in the gut.” Hancock said with a smirk.

“To be fair, a stabbing might have made the party better.” Yvette replied drily. “If only to break up the ‘oh yes, we summered in the Hamptons with the Whoevers’ and ‘where did you say you were from _originally_ ’ dear? Oh how fascinating’.” she shook her head. “The second time we meet, he did _much_ better.”

“Oh?” Hancock settled in.

She nodded. “It was not…the best time to stand out as different. Your face or your color, or even your accent would sometimes be more than enough for police to stop you, to ask you what you are doing and where are you going and who are you with and all of these questions that you had to be _very_ careful to answer, or else spend the rest of your afternoon at the station proving you are allowed to walk on the street.” Yvette toed a rock near her boot, toying with it before it rolled too far away. “So I am on my way to the library, because I must do research and return books, and I am walking with three other girls from my class because it is safer and we had plans for after the studies; police stop us but only want to talk to me and to Kim. We are trying to be calm but firm because we have all of the papers we are supposed to have, we have things to do, and we know if we show fear it will make the situation worse for us.”

Hancock couldn’t help the snarl on his lips. “That _fucking_ bullshit.” he breathed. “What, did they think you were hiding nukes under your skirts or something?”

“Apparently.” Yvette sighed. “The other girls in our group, they are gone like they are never there. Then I hear from up the block, my name? And I see this big tall boy in uniform waving, and he is coming _straight_ for us.”

“Martin?”

She nodded. “He just walks up, says ‘oh hello officers, excuse me’ and wraps me in his arms and kisses me. _On my mouth_!”

Hancock raised an eyebrow.

Yvette held up her hand to stall what he might have wanted to say about that. “Then he goes into this drama: he did not know my class was done early, how fortunate he too needed to be at the library, oh yes officers this is my fiancee and her very dear friend, yes I know she is not wearing a ring because it was stolen, have you come to her to say you have found it? He talks so much and so loud, smiling the whole time, _the police give up_. They say ‘have a good day sir, thank you for your service, hope you recover your ring ma’am’ _et voila,_ gone.”

“Definitely a better impression than the breakfast line.” Hancock snorted.

“Oh yes. He stayed with us, while we studied, and walked us back to our apartment…I forgave him the first kiss and let him ask me out.” Yvette’s eyes went to the fire again, seeing nothing but the movement and the light as the pain in her chest sharpened and then lessened into something more manageable. “He took me to dinner, and to dancing at a quiet little place. Pulled out my chair, was a very gentle man. I was charmed.” she looked up at Hancock with a sad smile. “It did not hurt that he was very tall, and had beautiful eyes.”

That stung a little, even though Hancock was determinedly avoiding following the kinds of trains of thought that made that sting so. “Guess there was more going on under the uniform than I would’ve figured.” he said.

Yvette nodded. “ _Moi aussi_. The boy who gave such a bad line at the party was not the same one who walked me to the library. That one I liked _much_ better. Fortunate for me that _that_ was _Martin_ and not the first boy.” she laughed.

At least she could talk about it and laugh a little, Hancock thought. “And he didn’t get handsy.”

Yvette laughed again, wiping dust and a tear from her cheek. “He could, but not in the way I was afraid you were--he did not act my friend and then tell me I am a slut, and that I owe him my body because he was nice to me--and you have not, I know that.” she added quickly. “I just…for a moment I thought perhaps it was the case, because…I…”

“You didn’t want me to be _that_ kind of asshole, I get it.” Hancock said gently. “I do, ok? You already said we’re cool, so we are, ok?” He wanted to get up, sit beside her, take her hands and keep them from pulling at each other and cracking the knuckles.

“Yes. And because I love you for being such a good friend, and…this world has been very shocking to walk through. Sometimes I think I cannot take more disappointment from it, and then something happens, or I find something I did not know before, and it is a fresh wave of shit…am I making sense?”

Hancock looked at her distressed face. Truth was, he was pretty relieved that what she was worrying about didn’t really have anything to do with him. He could get anticipating disappointment, could get how heavy that could weigh in the face of just regular life; never mind a life some two hundred years behind and playing catch-up ever since. “I do. I promise, I do. We got it settled between us, Yvette. Beautiful. We do. In a while, it’ll be an embarrassing story we only tell each other when we wanna have a goof.” he said with a grin that didn’t feel anywhere as light as it must look to her.

Yvette got up, dusting off her butt before coming around the campfire to hug Hancock around the shoulders, and kiss his cheek lightly. “Deal.” she said.

Hancock patted her arm. “You’d better get some sleep, beautiful.” he said softly. Hancock watched her retreat to her bedroll and settle down, wriggling against it and curling up. She would doze, he knew, but she never really slept deep when they were out like this. He knew she couldn’t stand Cram from the can, but would scrape the fat from the lid to cook eggs in and fry the meat into something pretty decent. He knew she freckled in too much sun but they faded fast, and that there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for a kid…even if it meant chasing a cat back home. There were all these little things that Hancock knew about her, but still so much he _didn’t_. It bothered him; it _honestly_ bothered him. It bothered him that he didn’t know, and it bothered him that he _wanted_ to know. Things were getting _complicated_ , and if he were smart he’d start pulling back before it got any worse and he did something _real_ stupid-foolish for her.

But when it came to the Vaulter with the Atomic Blue™ eyes…Hancock was _not_ smart.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the disappointingly-topical 'how we met' background. Turns out, McCarthyism never really died, it just got a new name [for those of you who don't know, Senator McCarthy was a massive headache from 1950-54 that tanked a lot of people's careers and encouraged the kind of paranoia that usually goes under a tinfoil cap].


End file.
